The Fool's World
by throwcementatmyface
Summary: A story beginning a brief time after the events of Persona 5, covering the aftermath of Ren's testimony and ended probation. (Had to retire this one, as it would become dated sometime after the release of P5R.)
1. Chapter 1 - The Fool and His Orders

The Fool's World

Chapter 1:

The Fool and His Orders

December 24th. 20XX. Only 8 people truly remember the time ruin visited Shibuya and a god was killed. And, hypothetically speaking, if you were one of those 8 you may have believed destroying the cognitive world known as Mementos – a disgusting, warped world that leaked into and choked the everyday life of the sole few who could even remember its short-lived and (rather traumatic) existence – would destroy with it the Metaverse it resided within, bringing social reform to its freed inmates.

But such social reform is too optimistic, too grand an aspiration to be truly achievable for all humanity, everywhere. If it was, as was stated before the Trickster and his allies, a fact that Palaces were places reserved for those who could not belong in Mementos, a residence for those who broke the cognitive prison, then could the Metaverse, the area where these sites festered like a boil, truly be gone forever..? Perhaps out of necessity (or be it mere plot convenience for this tale to unfold), a tool as useful and necessary for internal revolution would once again rear it's head and would prove useful once more.

First, a note on Mementos. What was it? Was it an area merely confined to the people of Shibuya? Tokyo? Japan? The world at large? If The Fool was to overcome Death and conquer The World, then perhaps the latter option seems fitting – but if this story is to be told one must simply believe a Mementos exists within the cognition of the public of one area. Tokyo – with its bustling and sprawling subway, had a very urban and vast Mementos due to its population density. Your Mementos is different to mine. It could be a very wide yet dead field of Shadows if your area is rural, or perhaps a twisted and devastated city. But your Mementos always leads to the will of the people, the screaming, rapt desire – the Treasure of the many. For the citizens of Tokyo, to belong to a vast unthinking prison of stagnation was all that desire was. It formed the Holy Grail and raised a god. Not all of Mementos will have depths as powerful and as repulsive as Tokyo's, but perhaps there are some Mementos out there that are markedly worse, with more powerful entities formed from the desires, gasping for breath under the sodden, waterlogged earth of cognition. For many, being bound to – and becoming worshipful – of the collective desire is the only barrier between ruin and daily life. And it must stay that way, for society demands it so. Phantom Thieves will not be around to fix every broken god, after all. For you and I said desire may be different from the one we know as Tokyo's. But it may be the same. That is the nature of the game. That is the nature of Mementos.

May 26th, 20XX

Ren Amamiya surveyed his room with the same wistful stare he so often observed it with almost daily. This room was a prison that caused emotion to well in his chest and his throat to tighten, a labyrinth of despair that he felt on the verge of tears when he entered – but for all the right reasons. He had spent one final week with his friends in Shibuya, his late homecoming angering his parents greatly and it was to become a source of great misery as he felt the repercussions of his bonds. For him, home was where the heart was. And his heart rested firmly in Shibuya, Yongen-Jaya, Aoyama Itchome… anywhere in Tokyo he had forged a bond, really – so returning to his hometown was essentially ripping his heart away from him, which made this room even more painful. He had to explain to his parents the 'souvenirs' he had brought home weren't actually gifts from his friends, they were just simply souvenirs. But his heart languished on the items surrounding him. A dog tag with 'Takemi' engraved upon the cold metal, a fountain pen he twirled between his fingers as his restless mind raced, even items as inane as a recipe for coffee and curry, or a business card for Sae Niijima, attorney at law, he had to pass off as odds and ends, mere trivialities with no emotional meaning behind them. He turned up the music playing in his headphones – perhaps the 'souvenir' that brought him most parts equal joy and sorrow and recalled the day his happiest memories were erased.

31st April, 20XX

"Mr. Amamiya, was it?" A policeman, sapped of soul and happiness, handed over Ren's phone as if it were a rag he had just blown his nose into. His eyes were almost completely blanketed by an opaque shadow by his officer's hat, adding a slight jab of menace to the airs he carried with him. Though, Ren suspected, if he were to look into those eyes all he would see was just another hollow adult, complicit within his societal roles and duties. "Now, although your past record was wiped clean, we can't ignore your more… questionable escapades. And your parents didn't want us to, either. Of course, the rumours are spreading throughout the town about what you did to land yourself back in juvenile hall, but the details of Shido's trial and your testimony are completely confidential." He spoke as a robot, like this was completely standard procedure. Ren had been met with constant rumours and whisperings, some malicious, about his time out of town. It was a bit of deja vu, harkening back to the time he had first arrived at Shujin and the same speakings were on the tongues of the everyman. "As such… your parents handed us this."

The policeman produced a small, ziplock bag containing his phone and waved it in front of Ren's face. An involuntary gasp escaped Ren's lips as the light reflected off the case and he couldn't shake the anxiety that rooted itself within him. "What did you do with it..?" He questioned.

"We didn't look at any of the data on it, if you're wondering. But we _did_ wipe it clean."

"You what?!" Ren couldn't hide his surprise and anger. He snatched the bag from the officer who let out a "Hey-!" in protest and quickly unzipped it, grabbing his phone from within. He felt how frightfully cold the metal case was and ran a fingernail along one of the ridges while waiting for it to boot up. Sure enough, the phone looked as if it had just been unboxed, a stock lock screen and no password enterable. "Surely this is a violation of some police code?" Ren asked.

"The thief's gonna lecture us on misconduct?" The policeman guffawed. "There's a few stipulations your parents agreed upon when we struck a deal. We'll be monitoring all your communications on that phone from now on. If we catch even a whiff of a suspicion you're communicating with anyone from Tokyo, we can move in to make sure they get the same treatment. And you'll be spending more time in Juvie for conspiracy."

"Anyone?" Ren tried to mask the anger welling in his chest. The Juvie part didn't annoy him. The threat against his friends, however, pricked his anger like a pin brushing a balloon.

"Anyone."  
"Even Tora?"

"Even Tora."

"Even Oda?"  
"Even that kid."

"Even So-"

"I said anyone, I mean anyone!" The officer snapped.

"But Sojiro's a family friend!" Ren barked, getting awfully close to the officer.

"He's an _accomplice!_ " The officer unleashed a truly powerful yell, closing the conversation.

Ren thought about never messaging Ryuji, or Yusuke, or Ann, or Haru, or Makoto, or… or Futaba. 'The right not to leave you.' The words echoed in his head like daggers as he forcefully thrust the phone down into his pocket. Just the thought of not being able to talk to his greatest friends, even the oddballs like Takemi, Ohya or Kawakami just felt odd and caused a cold sweat to trickle down the base of his spine.

"Remember, cause no trouble for us and the boys in Tokyo will cause no trouble for your pals and accomplices."  
"Sure thing, Big Brother." Ren turned on his heel. He wanted to spit on the perfectly shined-shoes of this overbearing authority figure, another adult his 'reform' had seemed not to change.

"We're not done talking! Cheek like that will land you in Juv-" The officer was halfway through his riposte when Ren closed the door to the station, walking out to an unfittingly sunny sky and a horribly grey mood. He decided it would be best to head back. He mused on what just had happened. Here he was, a boy who had slain a god, completely stupefied by the thought of never being able to talk with humans he loved again. He had to chuckle at the situation. To think that if he even dared to send a message to someone as completely harmless as Hifumi, the entirety of those he shared an oath with would be monitored – extending even to an elementary schooler like Shinya – made his blood boil and vision cloud over. He saw nothing but red on the way home. Futaba had often mentioned he was almost a different person when he was Joker and the only time he became 'Joker-ified' (direct quote) in everyday life was when he was angry or his passions were enflamed. He could almost feel the mask on his face at that very moment and felt the urge to tear it off, despite it being completely intangible. And if one were to focus on his gait as an outsider, they would see it straighten and speed up as if he were once again traversing the corridors of a Palace. Though this time it would be alone.

He arrived back home and one angry glare at his mother was all he needed to show what he thought of their new privacy-invading scheme. He arrived back in his room to a greeting from the one friend he retained from Tokyo.

"How'd it go, Ren?" Morgana chirped.

"See for yourself." The sweat from his palms had warmed the phone case considerably, Ren noted as he held the phone up for Morgana to see.

"You… got a new phone?"

"Come on, Mona, it's my old phone. But the data got wiped by the police." Morgana's cat eyes widened in surprise.

"Th-they can't do that!"

"Apparently they can. And there's more. If I'm caught texting or ringing anyone from Tokyo, they'll get this treatment too." A few moments of nothing but silence hung throughout the room. "Oh, man. I thought the police in Tokyo would back off. What if Lady Ann gets arrested?"

"Just Ann?! What about everyone else?!" Ren snapped.

"Whoa, calm down, Joker." Morgana recoiled and tried to soothe Ren's emotions, still trying to accept the fact of the matter himself. Ren noted how when he got angry people tended to call him Joker. That shook him perhaps more than it should've.

"I know but…" Ren hung and shook his head in defeat.

Ren plugged in Futaba's headphones to his PC and turned on some music to try and calm himself down. He felt like puking, moreso than even when that wretched god showed itself to him. He squeezed them into his head, almost as if trying to comfort himself with them. It almost worked until his phone buzzed and once again he was reminded he was supposed to be having a crappy day.

The text was from the department, blunt and disconnected from any empathy. It read:

Ren Amamiya, under strict orders from superiors and in agreement with your parents, the following numbers have been blocked:

-Sojiro Sakura

-Ryuji Sakomoto

-Ann Takamaki

-Yusuke Kitagawa

..." Ren did not need to press to see more. The message conveyed enough already. He sighed, scrunching up and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sheesh. That's way too harsh, even if you were on probation." Morgana tried his damnedest to grimace in his cat form, before the phone buzzed once more.

"Any texts sent from their phones will immediately be marked read and you will not be able to view them. This is to ensure your friends know you are still alive, while limiting your communication."

"Well, at least we still have the public phone at Leblanc, right..?" The phone seemed to buzz in response.

"As to the matter of other modems of contact, such as the public phone in Leblanc or other public forms of contact such as library computers or laptops, Shujin is now being tracked for communication, as well as Leblanc's public phone. Other areas where your accomplices may frequent (arcades, libraries, restaurants) are required to divulge information if it is deemed necessary. Details on your exploits as Phantom Thieves or details on aiding them is on a strictly need-to-know basis, so details on why you are under watch remain confidential."

Ren felt nauseous and had to breathe in to steady himself. "Th-This has gotta break some sorta right, right? Your probation is over…!" Morgana exclaimed, jumping onto Ren's lap to comfort him. Ren gently ran his fingers through Morgana's coat and responded, "I guess probation's never over for the guys who humiliated the police. They won't rest until we get arrested again, most likely."

"This cannot get worse…" And the phone buzzed once more.

"Morgana, I still need to tell you when the right time to just shut up is, huh?" Ren craned his neck to read the text and began to speak it aloud.

"Furthermore, we understand there will most likely be one accomplice more likely to contact you than the rest, due to your relationship and her skills with technology. As such, Futaba Sakura is required to hand over her PC every Friday until is deemed necessary for inspection. If a single file has been deleted or altered, innocuous or not, she will receive a strike on her record for conspira- Bullshit!" Ren had mostly murmured the text until the last sentence where he couldn't stop himself from complaining.

"Channeling your inner Ryuji there?" Morgana attempted some form of a quip but the depressing tone made it fall flat.

"It's like probation never ended! Did we really sleight them that bad? We were the _good guys_ , for the love of-"

"I get you. That last text… this is definitely a matter of them licking their wounds, otherwise they wouldn't be taking special measures just to go after Futaba. Man, it's times like this where I wish we didn't disband!"

"It's like I'm a prisoner all over again!" The two yelled in unison, immense frustration evident in their voices.

Those words would echo through to an area existing between mind and matter, between dream and reality. A freakishly long-nosed man wrung his gloved hands and chuckled. "It's like I'm a prisoner all over again!" blared through the loudspeakers above his head, giving him more reason to chuckle with merriment. "My, my… has the game begun anew already? Lavenza, prepare a cell for our inmate. He may be back sooner than expected…"


	2. Chapter 2 - The Prison Master

Chapter 2:

The Prison Master

31st May, 20XX, 12 o'clock PM

Ren awoke to a faint blue light which was cast in delicate rays around the room. Smoke drifted silently from an obelisk-light structure from the centre of the room, also shimmering with etheral beauty, just a few feet away from the foot of his single bed and to the left of his desk, from which the cushy leather spinning chair he spent his now mind-numbingly boring days lounging around in had been pulled out from. On it sat a petite form, one he faintly recognized though had known for only a slight period of time. The ghostly blue light illuminated her face, bathing it in a gentle shade of baby blue which the slightly harsher phantom-smog contrasted with, obfuscating the rest of her (tiny) body. When she realised Ren stirring from his rest, she opened her mouth and began to speak in a dulcet and motherly tone, despite her stature.

"It's funny," she began, patiently awaking for Ren to fully arise, "scant a word has left my lips since I have become whole and yet, gazing upon you here, I cannot help but feel as if I owe my life to you, Inmate."

Ren, for all his charming ways, greeted this heartfelt compliment with a noise from his throat that sounded like something between a groan and a croak. Lavenza, for that was who she had become, greeted this with a soft giggle. "You seem rather tired, Inmate? Have you had some sleepless nights?"  
"Umm… Mona, your friend's here."

"Ah, I don't think he shall swell from his rest, Inmate. It is you ou- my master seeks an audience with. Though I do find that term – Inmate – a bit old and uncomfortable to use now. Henceforth, I shall call you 'Trickster.'"

"Your master…? The big nosed man?"

"If that's what you wish to call him, then yes."

"Why now…? I thought you said I was never gonna be able to return."

"You can returned when called upon, as my master sees it fit. He believes you should be given a chance to reclaim your World."

"Why did it take him this long? All this happened a _month_ ago. He could've helped anytime before then, right?"

"In the last conversation you had with my master, he mentioned he was rather hurt you could not tell he was a fake. It took some time to convince him that you quite literally could not have known, but I suppose he is a far more rigid man than I would like to believe."

"So… fixing my life is his way of apologising?"  
"Something like that. But that matters not – the only one who can convey the words of my master is my master himself." Lavenza jumped down from her perch and gestured towards to shimmering cell door. It felt like an eternity since Ren had laid eyes upon it. He gently unfurled the sheet and let it lie over Morgana, who was unfazed by the quilt now weighing down upon him. Ren looked confused as he once again stepped into the Velvet Room.

The first thing Ren noticed was the added weight on his face, as if a cold compress was pressed onto it. His mask had returned and he admired his clothing, still suave as the day he was dancing around the umbras of museums and ships. He looked up to face a desk behind which sat a man with misshapen facial features and a small body stared directly at Joker from behind furled hands. "It has been some time, Trickster. You may thank my assistant – well, one of them, for returning you here."

"That's all well and good, but aren't we here to discuss how to fix my life?"

"Not so hasty, Trickster. My master shall see that done in time. First, there is a matter we would like to discuss with you." Ren took in his surroundings – the room was very much the same one he had known, with its large circular carpet on which the logo of the Velvet Room was emblazoned, the cells lining the walls of the room, each small sparse alcove draped in chains, like some form of tattered curtain except – of course – the one he had broken free of. He also noted that Igor's voice was still taking some getting used to, as the kooky old man voice continued to throw him considering for 8 months of his life he was listening to some imposter and his robotic, gravelly tones. Igor piped up once again. "I called you here after getting over my initial… dismay that you could not tell my predecessor was a mere fake, but Lavenza brought me to the realisation that there was no way you could have met me before the night you awoke on your bed here. I was hoping that you could answer a question and, if it comes to that, perhaps make a deal with me in return for your old life back?"

"You have a question _you_ want to ask _me_?"

"Well, I do not have all the answers to every query man has posed in his existence. Though this one in particular concerns your… work."

"What could I possibly tell you that you wouldn't already know…?" Ren tried to hide the puzzlement in his tone. He could tell this Igor had the keen wit and sharp knowledge of his fake, his eyes veritably buzzed with it.

"Lavenza. You do the honours." She bowed low and began to speak.

"It appears there is no reason to further conceal this information from you and, as such I will relay it to you."  
"Why do you sound like you're trying to dance around telling me this?"

"Hmph. Fine, Trickster. It has come to my master's attention the Metaverse is not destroyed, though a large portion of the Tokyo area is missing from it." Joker felt a jolt of surprise run down his body. He shuddered in anticipation.

"Excuse me…? No, that's impossible, sorry. We literally killed a god and you're saying what we put our necks on the line to do just afftected _Tokyo_?" Ren spat out the last word, as if he found the mere action of ending that sentence to require effort. "That's-"

"Correct, yes. Tokyo is the only place within the Metaverse that has been completely wiped out. But that is our question we wish to pose to you, Trickster." Igor interjected. "Why was the damage to the Metaverse limited to merely Tokyo and what other secrets lie within it? If you are willing to investigate this for us… we shall ensure your peaceful life is once again restored."

"How would you-" Ren was interrupted again by the sound of ringing bells bellowing throughout the halls.

"Our time here is up Trickster. Return to your world at once. You may return when called upon."

Before Ren could be given a moment to object, he opened his eyes to sunlight in the real world again, blinding him for a second until he could adjust to it. He felt oddly well rested in spite of all that had happened, but his mind still replayed the events in his head. He had killed a god for… what, exactly? A Tokyo where humanity still was unjust, yet could not form distorted desires? To find out the Metaverse still existed and its clouded reach was dispelled only in a single city? He felt a searing anger well up within him again. Nothing ever seemed to go right for him and, while there were good intentions there, the idea of a solo trip into the Metaverse seemed too nauseating a feat. He didn't even know where to head to, where to go. And he could tell his meeting with Igor was cut short to stop him from prying too much. He held his head in his hands. Was this really the only way? He stared at his phone, knowing how little use it had seen in the past month, knowing how many people had most likely reached out to him, only to returned dead silence on the other end. What did they think? That he had forgotten about them? That he no longer valued their friendship? The thoughts pricked at his mind like pins in a doll and right then and there he steeled his resolve. So what if the Metaverse was the only way to get his friends back? It was but a mere investigation and – if push came to shove and a few Shadows got in his way – he knew he could easily dispatch them with as much effort as it takes to cleave butter with a hot knife. All he needed was a location and the rest would be a cinch from there. Report back to Igor and, hey, this might be over in few weeks' time.

But for as cocksure as those thoughts in head built him to be, what was to transpire would go much differently to how his brain reassured him.

In time, he would come to eat those words.


	3. Chapter 3 - The One With the Long Title

Chapter 3:

Coffee Beans, Shut-Ins and Tort of Law

31st May, 20XX, Somewhere in the Backstreets of Yongen-Jaya, 10:30 am

At a small cafe in the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya, the coffee came to a boil. The ever-present smell of roasting beans and bubbling of coffee in the decanters accompanied the stiff acidic aroma that hung like a mist around the poorly-ventilated shop. Defence attorney Sae Niijima put her chinaware cup of plain white ceramic down onto the counter with a resounding 'clink!' She inhaled once, twice, heavily through her nose as she listened to the background noise that was emitted from the TV, which the proprietor of the establishment, Sojiro Sakura, seemed engrossed in.

"The cleanup surrounding now disgraced politician Masayoshi Shido continues on, with the current convictions for accomplices relating to the case now reaching a dozen. The ex-Diet member who confessed his crimes live on TV last December has provided the names of those surrounding him, leading to swift arrests and trials, though many have been acquitted, with some suspecting the remnants of his United Future party to be behind the numerous acquittals. Now to leading psychologist Masa-" the TV quickly shut off, as Sojiro turned to Sae.

"How's the celebratory coffee?"

"Delicious, as always." Sae pursed her lips and Sojiro noticed her distress.

"I suppose there's not much to celebrate, huh?" He sighed and muttered something under his breath as Sae slammed her hand down on the desk.

"My defendant was a Shujin student who spoke out of turn about the Phantom Thieves! The prosecution hadn't a shred of evidence and yet it was still a victory by the skin of my teeth!"

"The police have been getting worse and worse lately. I've noticed the amount of 'relaxation' coffees that Kitagawa kid has been ordering has doubled recently. It's clear everyone's paranoid. And rightly so. You hear what happened with Futaba?"

"You mean the fact she's locked herself in her room again?" Sojiro sighed again and his expression dropped. The sound of coffee brewing was the only thing heard for a few seconds, until conversation resumed.

"Well, that's a part of it. But…" Sojiro rummaged around underneath the counter and pulled out a letter. Sae had worked for long enough in the force to recognise an official police summons when she saw one. "Here, take a read."

Sae scanned the document for a good few minutes for the majority of which Sojiro organised his cups and made sure the beans were all in order. Sae finally put the document and pinched the bridge of her nose. "How many departmental codes does this violate?"

"You're the ex-prosecutor here. My guess is probably a few dozen."

"But Futaba's shut herself in again, so how is she…?"

"I'm the one taking her computer down to the station to be checked. The police don't like it but they're gonna have to deal with it. I'm not gonna budge an inch when it comes to those assholes."

"So, I'm guessing you've come to the same conclusion I have?" Sojiro immediately knew what she was talking about and nodded solemnly.

"It's our little troublemaker again." A dark cloud seemed to hover over Leblanc whenever anyone mentioned Ren. For someone like that to just drop into their lives like some sort of problem solving atom bomb and just leave… the inertia was still being felt by all those he had bonded with.

"I know it's the only thing he could've done to get Shido, but I almost regret getting him to testify…" Sae looked down into the bottom of her cup, as if the liquid that pooled shallowly at the bottom was the last thing on Earth that could comfort her.

"Futaba was a wreck after Christmas Eve, but I think losing him twice in two short months… well, she shut herself in when he didn't bother responding to her texts."

"He did that for her too?" Sae immediately perked up, meeting Sojiro's eyes.

"Uh… yeah. Stopped talking to me too. I thought maybe he just wanted to forget us, but…"

"I think something dirty's going on, Sojiro. He's not just not responding to your texts, but to mine and Makoto's too." Sae closed her eyes pensively and opened them seconds later, with a steely glare. "Give me your phone." She commanded, producing her own and unlocking it.

"Sure thing." Sojiro seemed a little shocked at how stern Sae was being all of a sudden, but who was he to get in the way of a revelation? He handed his phone over to her, unlocked. She went to his text log and tapped on Ren A. The last message he sent was on the 28th of April. Similarly, the last text he had sent to Sae was also on the 28th. She laid the phones on the table for Sojiro to see and began to speak. "It seems the cutoff date for him receiving any message from us was on the 28th of April. That can't be a coincidence."

"But… what does it mean?" Sojiro seemed confused as to what exactly was happening, causing Sae to sigh deeper than perhaps she meant to.

"What it _means_ , I think, is that he's had his communication limited. The police force clearly hate him – I mean why else would they go after Futaba like that so suddenly and around the same time?"

"So it's not he doesn't want to contact us, but he _can't?_ "

"You're finally getting it old man." Sae smirked.

"H-Hey! I _do_ get this! I-I mean, this is good, right? If I explain this to Futaba, she might finally finally get out of her room again…" Sojiro smiled for the first time in quite a while. "Thank you, Sae. Finally, some good news for this old goat." Sae had slid the chair out from under her with a soft creaking and hoisted her handbag onto her shoulder. She produced 300 yen from within the sleek leather bag and slid it across the counter. "Glad I could be of some use. I highly doubt we'll be able to fight the department even with this, but… Anyway, I hope things go with Futaba. And thank you once again for the coffee." She walked out of the shop, the soft tinkling of a bell annunciating her departure.

Futaba Sakura sat in her room listening to the conversation through a bug she had planted in Leblanc and giggled with childlike glee. Her plan was going well, for the time being. She simply had to remember how she acted when she was a shut-in and lonely child and emulate that. Perhaps you're wondering why she had chosen to do so. In order to explain that, one must explain the circumstances surrounding a particular man by the name of Masaru Inoi. In doing so, the truth of The Hermit's actions will come to light.


	4. Chapter 4 - Mind Games

Chapter 4:

Mind Games

May 31st, Akasaka-Mitsuke

To the world at large Masaru Inoi was an unwilling hero, thrust into the limelight after the Shido incident. Only half of that sentence is true.

Of course, Masaru was highly unwilling to actually get close to the limelight. He was complacent with being a mere pawn of Shido, after all, that was what would have given him his quiet life he so desired, right? But Goro Akechi had to go and croak and he was left behind to cover for the United Future party. What was once a simple place he could live tranquilly in as simply another cog in the works was suddenly a danger to his peaceful life. Suppose Shido exposed his connections to the United Future? How would his peace be disturbed then? And something happened to Masaru that day. For the first time in his life he stood up and decided it was no longer time to be complacent, to continue being but a mere pawn. Not now.

Not when his quiet life was on the line.

A young man of just 31, Masaru ran his fingers through his hair – black, medium cut and spiky, like the spines of a porcupine were kept in neat condition and groomed and combed daily. His dark eyes were stuck fighting between a shade of grey and black, an eternal storm of monotone colour that betrayed the beautiful wisdom and intelligence he held within it, as they sparked with ideas. Yet as the bright and overbearing studio lights beamed into those irises, they refused to show his distortion, as if those intelligent eyes were too scared to show the world what their owner was truly like. Masaru fidgeted with his leather gloves, still feeling too tight on his hands and ran a fingernail around the rim of one of the buttons on the blazer he had worn specifically for this show, the checkerboard-print tie matching the darkness of his eyes, of which the blazer was the same shade – that eerie grey that seemed to be trying to suck all colour out of its surroundings in order to get darker. That too, matched his character in spades.

Next to him sat a young patient, Kira Kowareta. Bringing her here was a calculated risk and even now her eyes danced with fear, but he knew in order to secure his future he would need to build up a good public image – even more than he had so already. He had appeared in approaching 10 TV interviews, many Tokyo radio stations and countless newspapers all due to Shido's confession. His claim to fame was simple:

Using his psychological skills, he was the man who had solved the Psychotic Breakdown incidents and proved one and for all the Phantom Thieves were just a fairytale. None of that last sentence is true, of course, but it was what he needed in order to achieve his desire. By shooting himself into the limelight as the victim genius of a cutthroat politician, he had a waiting list three months long for his psychological clinic. Of course many of those patients would never be accepted: they didn't meet his requirements. "Going live in ten…" A stocky cameraman told the psychologist, patient and talk-show hosts. But what were those requirements? "Eight." Well, they were a tall order to reach. "Seven." After all, you'd have to accepted by Inoi himself. "Five." But those requirements were the source of Inoi's distorted desires. "Three." Once he deemed you had a 'beautiful mind'… "Two." …you could be evaluated by the man himself. And chances are… "One!" you'd never leave until that 'beautiful mind' of yours was shattered.

"And we're live!" Inoi knew that his interests of a quiet life and to find one with a perfect mind conflicted. He could have one, but must sacrifice the other. And that was why he was scared people would find out about his work at the United Future party. Because they would both be gone. And he would have neither, ever again. But staring into the bright lights and listening to the overly-happy hostess begin to speak, well…

He couldn't bring himself to realise there was a world where that would ever happen.


	5. Chapter 5 - Bad Medicine

Chapter 5:

Bad Medicine

31st May, Sojiro Sakura's House

But Futaba was not privy to the inner workings of the clearly sick Masaru. He was just another man wrapped up in Shido's web of deceit, who happened to get popular off the Phantom Thieves – like so many a person who had cut from the man had, all playing the victim card. And, besides, Masaru was the only one that mattered to her. It wasn't the psychology that mattered to her, nor perhaps the fact he was perhaps knowledgeable of cognitive psience, it was more circumstantial than that – and perhaps more petty. For Masaru Inoi's psychological clinic was located in Ren's hometown.

"Futaba? I'm home." Sojiro called out. He put the plastic bags of shopping down next to him in the hallway and carried the ingredients for the curry into the kitchen with him. Futaba gritted her teeth and refrained from calling out from her room to Sojiro. She missed greeting him everyday he came back from Leblanc, smelling of whatever he had brewed that day and as lax as ever. Every time the smell of that scientifically perfect curry wafted its way through her doorframe, she so badly wanted to join Sojiro in the living room and just watch TV with him until she fell asleep. It brought her great comfort to know tonight that would have to happen in order for her plan to proceed.

When all sound in the kitchen had ceased and Futaba could hear Sojiro's footsteps approach her room and leave the curry by her door. She checked the clock at the bottom of her PC, which read 21:27, exactly the right time she needed and waited for Sojiro to ask the same question he had asked for the past month straight. "So, uh, are you sure you don't wanna join me tonight…?" as if he knew the answer already, she heard his footsteps slide away and she tentatively opened her door.

"Hm?" Sojiro turned his head to face her, clearly not used to this behaviour.

"Actually… I'd like to eat with you tonight, dad." Sojiro looked quite shocked, but quickly regained his composure and chose to smirk instead.

"Well, then come join me and let's pretend this whole last month didn't happen, hm? I know how hard it's been on you."

"Mm-hm." Futaba quickly picked up the plate of curry and walked alongside her father to the living room.

The living room was a reasonable size for a man who depended on the patronage of a small consumer base. The walls were covered in a wallpaper of vertical pink lines of alternating shades that matched Sojiro's shirt (He still swears to this day it was not intentional). A small lamp with a grey shade covering the bulb illuminated the room and the white blinds were already drawn. A varnished mahogany coffee table – for coffee **only** , as Sojiro liked to remind whoever came in. It was the reason they were now eating a plate of curry off their laps, while an old 20XY played in front of them. But Sojiro wasn't eating his curry, as he was enraptured in what the TV was playing.

Masaru Inoi had just finished explaining how he had gotten the shut-in Kira out of her room after mere weeks of therapy at his clinic. A year and a half of her sedimentary lifestyle… gone. Just like that. He couldn't hide the smirk of satisfaction forming on his cold lips and the slack-jawed audience clapped and laughed with every foolish joke he made, with every lie he had coerced out of Kira cementing his fame further. The charismatic men he had surrounded himself with… Goro Akechi, Shido… he saw how their minds worked, how they ticked and swayed like clockwork matter and all he had to do was simply emulate who they presented themselves as. The public ate it up. Even as he left the studio with the shivering Kira, out into the cold night that pricked at his fingers and nose, leaving them numb and as drained as the girl stumbling beside him, his secretary had rung him about requests he may be interested in. All 241 of them.

And so, as his black cab sped past neon lamps and traffic lights that all morphed and blurred into another amalgam millions of other city livers saw through dry and tired eyes, none moreso than the broken mess of a mind next to him, he discussed his future patients, his dark and cool tone – almost seductive – asking for medical records and details behind these names being read out to him seemed to shine against the void of both the night and the people, a brighter will than that of the common people – who, with the knowledge of how completely dredged up and dark their society was came both rebellion and misery. And as the cold stars twinkled lifelessly overheard and the light below emitted its icy rays, the heat in Masaru's voice as he heard a certain name was unmistakeable.

"Saito, repeat that last name." Inoi's tone had become edgy and he sounded almost excited, despite the professional facade he normally showed.

"Of course sir. Call logged at… 21:46, a minute after the show ended. Caller I.D is one Sakura, Sojiro, calling on behalf of Sakura, Futaba. Says she's a case 'much like that girl you had with you'." Futaba Sakura… Futaba Sakura… that name rung a bell in his head and for good reason. As he pondered the name in his head, he struck metaphorical gold as he recalled the events of the trial he was key witness for.

25th December, 20XX (prior year)

Masaru fiddled with the cufflinks on his suit. His eyes surveyed the courtroom, scanning every last inch of the walls. It felt way too muggy in here for his liking and he ran one of his brown leather gloves across his forehead, revealing a thin layer of perspiration left on its smooth surface. He let out a shaky breath and began to eavesdrop on the tidbits of conversation that flew across the halls of justice. Next to him, in the gallery, sat Prosecutor Sae Niijima. She was talking to a tall boy with oddly fluffy black hair. The glare he struck through his glasses, though relaxed, was steely enough to cause Masaru to sweat bullets – but they were also bloodshot. The boy was clearly in turmoil, it seemed a few too many sleepless nights had led to his condition. Masaru had seen enough cases like the boy's to realise this was a byproduct of guilt and anxiety – due to how the veins pulsed subtly around his body his heart seemed to be beating incredibly quickly and Masaru knew then the reason this boy was in such disarray was in this courtroom, though he couldn't hazard much beyond that. Family issues? Lover's quarrel? Whatever it was, Masaru was interested. He decided to pay special attention to what they were saying.

"Everyone is going to be fine, yes." Sae lied, seeing how beaten up Futaba and Makoto were when she had rung them this morning. "Sojiro told me Futaba took it hard, but she'll be fine."

"As long as they're okay… Still, Futaba always was an odd case. Are you _sure_ she'll be okay?" "Sojiro assured me personally, Ren. You promised to give this testimony and I'm gonna make damn sure you aren't backing down now. We need to stop Shido now, before he can slip away forever."

"I'll trust you now… but with a mind like that… I dunno, maybe I have too high an opinion of myself. But if this goes south, as in _really_ far south, please make sure she's okay."

May 31st, 20XX (present day)

That child providing testimony that day… he had mentioned something about this Futaba's mind. "Saito, keep that Futaba's record open. Check for a call or record in the past few months for anyone under the name 'Ren,' please."

"Yes sir." For a few minutes there was silence and nothing but the sound of cars roaring past each other on the road, desperate to return home for reasons Masaru could not guess. Home life was always just monotony. In work purpose could be found, a raison d'être. At home there was tranquility but that came at the cost of idle hands. "Sir, three Rens have been found in call history. Ren Tanaka, Ren Amamiya and Ren Saidobashu."

The middle name caught Masaru's attention. "Look into Amamiya." He instructed as he peered out his window, welling up with condensation, obscuring the urban cityscape and concrete skyline just outside.

"Umm, his parents tried to book him in about a month ago, but you declined him on grounds he was 'too bland' and wouldn't even meet the requirements for a regular patient you'd take in, never mind the perfect mind programme."

"Anything else…?"

"Says here he has a criminal record and… oh!" Saito let out a gasp.

"Hmm? What is it?"

"He was connected to the Shido case but it won't specify much past that." Masaru's intrigue was officially piqued – his gut screamed for him to act upon instinct and his mind raced as he tried to figure out what was so confidential in the Shido case a mere infant gave private testimony to the prosecution. He decided he would get to the bottom of this mystery – two new faces he would have to paint over in order to cut ties to Shido forever and one may have happened to reveal a piece of information about the other Masaru could use to his advantage.

"Book Futaba Sakura into the perfect mind programme."

"Of course, sir. How long do you reckon she'll be staying for…? Ah, and the next open spot in your 'hotel' is the 2nd July."  
"Get her in by then. And as for the length of her stay… like the others. Indefinite."

31st May, 20XX, Outside Leblanc Cafe, Past Midnight

"So, you're really going away for a bit, Futaba?" Ryuji asked. Futaba already had her bags packed. Sojiro had really overpacked, she stumbled and wobbled every other step and the amount of suitcases made her look like she was emigrating to another country, not going away for a bit.

"Well, the appointment's a month away, buuut I got Sojiro to let me go a bit earlier so I could do a bit of sightseeing. It took three hours to pack everything and it was all so sudden and he fussed so much, but… I'm sure this is what I need to help me be more comfortable around others and break me out of my slump."

"Speaking of Sojiro, why has he yet to grace us with his presence?" Yusuke asked.

"He's probably too busy crying." Ann teased.

The stillness of the night air and cold wind chilled the group there, but they were still content and laughing. When the merriment had died down, Haru piped up.

"Actually, I was meaning to ask something, Futaba. This man who's giving you the psychiatric evaluation… Masaru was it? The man off TV?"  
"Yuh-huh. He's connected to Shido, from what I've heard. It's like fate!" Futaba played off the fact she had spent copious amounts of free time researching the man.

"Yes, well about his clinic… isn't it in Ren's hometown?" She asked that rather innocently, not realising she had inadvertently uncovered Futaba's entire scheme right then and there.

"Y-yes it is but that's got n-nothing to do with it!" Futaba stuttered out, clearly shaken.

"She's blushin' right now. I'm not the only one seeing her blushin' right?"

"Wait. Has this been approved by the police?" Makoto asked, her tone dead serious.

"Yes. It appears I cannot walk a single step without some suited scoundrel watching over me…"

"Well, Masaru is police-approved, according to Sojiro. He was the one who prepared everything, not me!"

"I somehow highly doubt that…" Ann concurred.

"A-Anyway! My train's soon! I gotta be there!" Futaba lied.

"Aww, we'll miss ya! C'mon guys, group hug!"

"Ryuji, I am not a 'group hug'- hey! Ann! Not so hard!"

"Aww, c'mon, how would Futaba ever be satisfied without Inari hugging her farewell?" Ann grinned.

"Guys! Wah! Too close!" The Thieves pulled away from the group hug and waved as Futaba stumbled like a drunkard down the moonlit alleyways.

Looking back, they wished they could have convinced her to stay. Life would have been much simpler if Futaba had simply refused to leave that night.


	6. Chapter 6 - Links and Chains

Chapter 6

Links and Chains

1 am, Sojiro Sakura's House

Sojiro smashed the butt of his cigarette into the ash tray next to the sofa and watched as the ash pooled into the glass like sand from an hourglass. He sighed, scratched his beard and adjusted his glasses ever so slightly before his posture slumped into one of pure exhaustion. He had rushed to pack Futaba's bags, knowing full well how this little meeting rendezvous with this Inoi would benefit both of them. While Sojiro knew there was a primary reason Futaba had chosen to go with his suggestion so quickly, he was hoping her quick mind would work fast enough to realise why he was so willing to go send her away – of course he wanted to break her out of her depressive slump, he would give the world to Futaba if he could. But this was a matter bigger than the both of them and he couldn't ignore how perfectly the situation could be moulded to suit a beneficial means for the both of them. Masaru Inoi was a psychological genius, connected to Shido and that was what sealed the deal for him. If there was even a chance that man knew about Wakaba and cognitive psience… he was sure those two could uncover the truth.

1:30 am, Outward-bound Train to Kyoto

Futaba's brain had a pulse and she could almost feel her forehead expand and relax with every breath. Of course, breathing would only serve to further make her mouth drier than it was already, but at least it would slow her heartbeat and slightly unravel the knot in her stomach. The window that was left ajar in the cabin she had bought a ticket for in order to avoid as much interaction as possible cooled her down and the slow, rhythmic thumping of rails against track almost hypnotised her into a sense of security and she began to relax as she thought about the fact she would be able to see Ren again in a few short days. Of course, interacting with him and getting to a place the police wouldn't intervene was another situation entirely but that was a bridge to be crossed when the time finally came. Watching as the scenery blurred together into an incomprehensible mess of greens and browns and greys was making Futaba drowsy, despite the caustic air of the night freezing her body. She reached up to close the window but her hand never quite reached, still shaking and quivering to reach the clasp before her eyes snapped shut and her body went limp, sprawled across the cushions of her cabin's seat and she began to snore.

1:40 am, Leblanc Cafe

"How do you guys drink this shit?" Ryuji asked, stifling a retch and wiping away a tear from how bitter and rancid he found his cup of coffee.

"I actually quite think Sae makes a good barista. I am rather partial to how acidic her blends are, it adds great beauty to the depth of flavour."

"Well, Sojiro hadn't locked up and I suppose someone had to be responsible for you troublemakers. I'm only here because I'm _still_ trying to clean-up the Shido case." She scoffed and her face became stern for a split second. "6 months and all that's come of it is the man at the top's been toppled and his associates are purposely getting strong lawyers and spineless prosecutors. In other words, they're avoiding yours truly." She chuckled, before becoming absorbed in her work once more.

"But, I mean, why're we all silent? C'mon, this is the first official P. Thieves meet and greet in… forever!"

"I'm so tired… I'm normally in bed right now…" Haru had not touched her coffee, instead opting to simply sit there and listen to the scant conversation.

"This blows…" Ryuji sighed, looking forlorn. "I mean, we-" Suddenly his quarter-drunk cup of coffee went flying off the table as Ann lifted her arm to point out the window, knocking it as she did so.

"Hey! Who the hell was that?!" Ann pointed at the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya, which were as devoid of life as the vacuum of space.

"Ann, I get you're paranoid but did the poor coffee cup really deserve that?" Ryuji whined, looking at the smashed chinaware now in tiny pieces on the floor, coffee pooling around them like a brown sea.

"No, I'm serious, I really saw someone!"

"Ann, are you sure? We've all been pretty on edge since the police basically started stalking us…" Makoto took a calm and soothing tone, trying to assure more herself than anyone that there couldn't possibly be anyone or anything out there in the darkness, watching them. That thought unnerved her, but she hid it.

"Hold on." Sae instructed, in a firm tone. She rose from her stool and strode over to the door of Leblanc, opening it.

The first thing that Sae was just how bitterly and dismally cold the night was for June. Last June was a maelstrom of odd weather, operating on an anything-goes basis but this year seemed far colder, even through spring and now summer. She shivered, pursed her lips and pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight. Scanning the alleyway twice with scarily observant eyes, she decided that:

A) It was far too cold to continue this whole charade

B) There was no possible way the possible way whoever Ann had sighted had hidden in the few seconds it had taken her to jump off her stool and shine her searchlight down the straight-shot alleyway had hidden anywhere.

It was most likely just paranoia – something all the Thieves seemed to be feeling a lot of now. Confident whoever was there was just a figment of Ann's hyperactive psyche, she returned to Leblanc and heard that tinkling bell ring as the warmth of the establishment welcomed her back.

"Ann, you were probably just imagining things." Sae said in the most soothing tone she could muster. "It's late and you're all tired. That won't help the paranoia you're all clearly feeling." Sae noted how shot their pupils were and the thin red lines that snaked around the edges of their eyes, encroaching closer and closer upon their small pupils day by day now.

"Actually sis, we're gonna head back now. It's for the best. If we're seriously beginning to _hallucinate_ …" Makoto winced at the thought.

"I'll mightn't be able join you on the platform, Makoto. Keep the apartment warm for me." Sae once again sat on the stool and waved the adolescents off. "Those kids…" She muttered to herself, dread apparent in her tone. "How bad are their minds right now…? Something needs to change and fast."

2:00, _Untouchable_ Airsoft Shop, Shibuya Central Street

"Dad, I did it..!" Kaoru Iwai staggered in and panted heavily, grasping his knees with heavy force.

"Woah, pace yourself kiddo." Munehisa Iwai advised his son, putting down the paper he was reading. He took his legs down from on top of the glass case displaying his wares and walked over to his son, patting him on the back. "They didn't catch you?"

"Well, the blonde one pointed directly me and then the scary attorney tried to get me, but I legged it outta there and…" Kaoru drew in a heavy breath as he was lightheaded from all his spitballing, "well, here we are now."

"Good job. And? What did you see?" Iwai's expression was stern, which was the normal expression he took whenever he became antsy.

"Umm… what did you say the ginger one was called again?" Kaoru winced.

"Futaba. Ren talked about her whenever he was working shifts here."  
"Yeah, her. She was hugged a bunch then left."

"Hmm. Just like that politician and kid said…"

"What kid…?" Kaoru panted out.

"Doesn't matter. It's 2 am, Kaoru. I know you haven't got school tomorrow but get some rest."

"But what about-"  
"Dad's orders." Iwai's word was final. Kaoru walked out of the shop, tired and mind racing with questions.

Iwai remembered the day Toranosuke Yoshida and Yuuki Mishima walked into his shop around a week back now. They introduced themselves as friends of Ren and asked if he'd heard anything from them since around a month ago. He shook his head and seemed surprised that both those two hadn't heard much since April 28th either. They went on to explain something else.

"We met because a scary defence attorney lady wanted to ask us something…" Mishima said.

"She asked us if – since we knew Ren and all – we'd kept tabs on the boy and his friends. It turns out Mishima over here _did_ , even after he'd left."

"It's all for a documentary…"

"Afterwards, we'd gotten to talking and decided to ask other people he was in contact with if they'd also observed those surrounding him after his departure home."

"Well, I can tell you straight up that I don't have the time to stalk teenagers, Dietman Yoshida, so I can only say I don't know much past when he left. He was in contact with me for about a month, asking how I was, or how's business, or what's happening with Kaoru or whatever but I couldn't tell you much about his friends." Iwai scoffed.  
"Of course, I understand. Yuuki, how about you ask him? It would be rather… awkward for an old-timer like me."  
"Sure." Mishima nodded. "Did he mention anything about someone called Futaba when he was with you."

"Name seems familiar." Iwai closed his eyes and thought for a few moments, then returned to conversation. "Actually, now that I that I think about it, she was the only person he ever mentioned on first-name terms. They were close?"  
"Something like that. Listen, this may be a lot to ask of you but we're thinking we could establish some form of re-communication with our mutual helper and we're hoping you could help."

"Hmm. Normally I'm the grouch who turns down offers like this, but for Ren… What is it I'd have to do?"

"Umm, well I kinda noticed Futaba's locked herself away again – Sakamoto told me and I was just wondering… could you alert us if that changes?"

"And how would that help?"  
"It seems Yuuki here believes that if she reappears then disappears again, she's probably gone to see Ren. We're asking you to text us if you notice that happen."

"A deal, huh? Sure, I'm game. And, hey, I get a Dietman's number out of it." After the two had exchanged numbers, they shook hands and Iwai grinned as they walked out of the shop.

"Let's see… next up is Kawakami. She should be-" And the door to _Untouchable_ closed.

2:30 am, Leblanc Cafe

Sojiro walked into his cafe, hugging himself internally for how his plan for Futaba was coming together, and arriving there only to check everything was in order and then close up but instead got the fright of his life. "What game are you playing this time, Sojiro?" Sae demanded, her tone edgy from the clear exhaustion written all over her face. "Sending Futaba away on her own, to a man connected to _Shido_? Are you feeling alright, or has the dementia finally set in, old timer?" This was the angriest he had seen the attorney in quite some time and he recoiled slightly, feeling like a disobedient child being disciplined by his parent for misbehaviour.

"Whoa, gimme a chance to explain myself first, Niijima." He put his hands up in a mock surrender and backed away.

"What is there to _possibly_ explain?!" Sae roared.

"It's about Wakaba for Christ's sake!" Sojiro yelled back. He noticed how quickly Sae's face softened and how her eyes widened, almost as if her mind had only just computed her emotions and what she had just said.

"About… Wakaba…?" She repeated, still looking like a deer in headlights.

"Yes. Futaba doesn't know it yet – she's probably thinking the psychologist will treat her and she can spend the rest of the time with Ren, but I'm hoping eventually she'll put two and two together and realise that 'psychologist' and 'Shido' means a possible link to Wakaba. It's wishful thinking that Wakaba's research could even be intact in the first place, but if it is… dammit, we can only try!" Sae had unconsciously tensed up and Sojiro saw her shoulders drop down as she relaxed. She smiled faintly.

"Well, those two always made one hell of a team. Sojiro, I don't approve of you sending her there – God only knows what Inoi knows about the Phantom Thieves, hopefully not much – but I understand this is for a reason greater than just the two of us. You want your daughter to recover and be happy, but you also want answers. That's… so human."

"Now that I've explained myself, am I free to clean and close up? Or are you gonna insult me again?" Sojiro grumbled. Sae closed her laptop, slid it under her arm and walked to the door. "See you, Sojiro. I hope everything works out for you. And… sorry for lashing out like that."

"I get, I get it. We're all paranoid. You know, it's the funniest thing, I can swear I've bumped into fifty times the amount of detectives I normally see in a year in the past month alone. But, this'll all blow over soon."

"I wonder…" Sae frowned and pushed the door open.

"What was that?" Sojiro called back to her, checking how much beans were in each jar and clearly engrossed in his inspection.

"It's nothing. Thanks for the drink." And Sae walked out into the cold summer night.

Meanwhile, an outward-bound train raced down the tracks to Kyoto and ever closer to a fate everyone in Shibuya was blissfully unaware of. For now at least.


	7. Chapter 7 - Council

Chapter 8:

Council

Shujin Academy, Monday 2nd June, After School

A dim light shone through the windows of Shujin. It snuffed out all other light, its rays opaque, its umbra oily black; the students of the institution seemed to dart around it, as if the air-conditioned hallways provided more heat, were more of a hearth than whatever ghastly beams that sun was emitting. But however hard the vice-grip of the cold sun tried to extinguish the dying embers of whatever semblance of hope Tokyo had left, they could never fully snuff from the burning vestiges those who still seemed to fight for their new world. Here come two of them now.

The third-year students Ann Takamaki and Ryuji Sakamoto walked down the hallway, towards the steps that would once again signal a leaving from the school, only for life to continue on the next day. But before they could step out of the door, a voice rang through the intercoms, tinny and muffled as it always was. "Could Sakamoto and Takamaki report to the student council office? Sakamoto and Takamaki to the student council office, please." Kawamaki's voice announced, sounding slightly worried. The intercom cut off with an abrupt crackling noise and the two turned to face each other. "Whaddya think it's about? Reckon one of us effed up again?"

"Nah. Well, maybe _you_ have, but we should go see what this is all about." The two high-tailed it down the flight of stairs and rushed to the student council office.

Ryuji arrived at the door before Ann and went to slide it open. "Haha, beat yaaaa- what the hell's going on here?" Ryuji had meant to celebrate his small triumph over Ann but now, seeing the sight before him, had merged together that comment with one of confusion. Kawakami sighed.

"Come in, Sakamoto. You too, Takamaki." Inside the student council room was a collection of many people, including the newly-elected Dietman Toranosuke Yoshida, the journalist Ichiko Ohya, Munehisa Iwai and his son – also a student at Shujin, a second-year to be precise – the fortune-teller Chihaya Mifune and other weird and wonderful faces Ren had met when he was in Tokyo. Sat with them were Yusuke, who had become a third year at his school – in fact, he was talking to another third-year from his school, Hifumi Togo. So were Makoto and Haru, whom had recently departed to college. Ryuji tried to take all this in, but found his concentration iterrupted. "So you guys are the Phantom Thieves?!" an especially excited and rather young voice belonging to a red-hat clad boy squealed.

"Whoa, slow down. I'm confused. Who're you all?" Ann asked.

"This is where I come in." Yoshida stood up and walked up to Ann. Everyone else around the table were all talking to one another like old friends. It would seem to any average bystander that this may have been an especially eccentric family reunion, what with the gaps in ages and the amicable air surrounding them. Compared to the dim sun, the entire room seemed alive with merriment and blisteringly hot in comparison. The Dietman extended a hand. "Toranosuke Yoshida. The pleasure is all mine, truly." He smiled in much the same way a father would at one of their daughters and Ann smiled back, feeling the kindness emanating from every movement this politician made with his body. After a hearty handshake and high-five from Ryuji – who seemed to take as much a liking to this man as Ann – he turned to address his audience.

"All right, everyone! Settle down. First, I would like you all to extend a formal thanks to the friends of our revolutionary, who have done so much for all of us present." After a smattering of applause from everyone but the Thieves, he raised a gloved hand to request silence. "Now, I would like to thank you for your punctuality. Yuuki and I have tried our damnedest to get you all to come here, as we are currently suffering under a common oppression that we are both alone and all together in suffering. Of course, I am talking about the dastardly police surveillance we are all currently experiencing!" Ann took an empty seat inbetween Sojiro and Tae, whereas Ryuji was beckoned eagerly to sit next to Kaoru.

"Actually, I was gonna ask about that." A gruff Iwai pointed at Yoshida, "Can't you, as part of our National Diet do something about this?"

"He can't. Believe me, the man isn't even affiliated with any party and the police and prosecutor's office are trying to remove him from that seat he miraculously won." Sae replied.

"Yes, I am just one man in a crowd of hundreds, alas. The police have also been very… uncompromising in their position. To them my affiliation with the Thieves has made me lower than when I was No-Good Tora, because I'm no longer longer a puppet on that Kuramoto's strings but instead now an active threat to their pride… but never mind my political ramblings. We're all gathered here today because we have two common aims. Ohya!"

"U-uh! Y-yes sir? I wasn't falling asleep!" Ichiko shot up from seemingly lulling herself to dreamland.

"Recite for me the first aim I told you when Yuuki and I first found you!"

"Is this some sort of of pop quiz?" Yoshida's glare hardened and Ohya sighed. "Fine. Our first aid as the accomplices of the great Phantom Thieves is to restore order to our lives, in order to continue to reform society, carrying on the Thieves' justice!" Ohya slowly raised her voice in a crescendo, showing how passionate she was about the topic at hand. Everyone else in the room began to stir at her enthusiasm.

"Excellent!" Yoshida matched her volume exactly. "Now, Shinya, what is our second aim?" He pointed at Shinya with a gleam in his eyes, tapping into a more youthful aspect of his character, in order to whip the already excited Shinya into a frenzy. "Our second aim is to rescue the leader of the Phantom Thieves, Ren, from his life of ruin and be able to talk to him again!" Shinya recited every word Mishima had told him when they had first met at the arcade. By now the room was buzzing; even the usually laid-back Sojiro seemed to have a glitter in his iris.  
"Very good!" Yoshida encouraged. "And in order to complete these aims, I found it necessary to form a group with aims similar to that of the Phantom Thieves, in order to not only continue to help this society out of apathy and misery, but also to aid the one who has been such an aid to us all, Ren Amamiya!" On the announcement of Ren's name, Ryuji stood up to punch the air with gusto, surprising both Iwai and Kawakami, who were sat next to him. Kaoru looked up and mirrored this action, grinning as if he had just won the lottery.

Yoshida raised his hand in another request for silence. This caused those stood up to sit down and the buzz of the room to cease. "There is another reason I called you here. Let us discuss that presently." Kawakami and Tae turned to Sojiro and said in eerie unison:

"Yes, let's." Sojiro looked rather surprised, clearly taken aback by the sudden hostility.

"Umm, what's this about?"  
"Let's cut straight to the point. Sojiro, why hasn't your daughter been attending school the past month?"

June 2nd, Kyoto, Ren's Hometown, Zeitaku Mall

"It's nice to get out, isn't it?" Morgana stretched and yawned as he craned out of Ren's bag, gasping at the cold summer air that filled the mall – the largest public space in Ren's hometown.

"Well, the police don't really monitor us that often in more public places." Ren noted as he scanned all around him, constantly on high alert. He continued walking down the walkways of the building, continuing his chat with Morgana "The way I see it, they can't just up police presence for us, right? That'd freak a lot of people out."

"Yeah, course it would. But, man, those officers are nothing if not prideful… yeesh, to live with that much of a chip on your shoulder…" Morgana frowned. They continued walking past countless shops, such as a coffee shop with half the soul of Leblanc and thrice the prices, a jewellery shop that sold rings and necklaces that reminded Ren of his heists and the Treasure Demons that came with them. Oh, to see another Shadow again. To feel the cold metal of a knife break its skin, or the recoil of a gun as another round was fired into the body of one of those odd creatures would be euphoric for Ren, whose life was stagnation and listlessness, filled with the pococurantisms he had come to know – he had felt a spark of life return when he heard the Metaverse was intact, but that was extinguished when he realised there was no real way to get back there at the moment.

As he – and undoubtedly Morgana – pondered on their situation, for that was all there was to do nowadays, considering schools across the country rejected him, they passed a small hotel located in the very south wing of the building, on the ground floor. It looked similar to many other 'luxury' hotels – glass doors leading into a marble-floored lobby, its wooden reception desk manned by the very face of apathy and 'I-really-wish-I-weren't-here-right-now' sprit itself, a small alabaster statue of an Arabhaki more alive than whatever poor soul was forced to hold that position. Ren had heard that recently more mall-hotels had been set up by some businessman he had no real interest in, but it was still interesting to see that in a place where so many people aimlessly wandered around, there was perhaps an oasis to this whole situation – a habitable environment cloaked by the everyman who walked around in front of it. Ren stopped in his tracks to look at it. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Morgana asked him.

"Safehouse?" Ren replied. Morgana assented with a nod. But before they could move to inspect the place, Ren's ears perked up. There was something off. Upon closer inspection one of the figures who had sat on one of the red leather armchairs in the lobby had suddenly disappeared. Ren also heard a set of footsteps, out of tempo with the rhythm of the general public Ren had grown accustomed to. They were light, fast, as if they still had some life left in them. And they were approaching Ren quickly. "Hmm?" Morgana noticed how antsy Ren had become and he too took up a more observatory stance. "Something wrong?" Ren couldn't see through the crowd that surrounded him, but as the surge of people around him increased, the footsteps – which he was now facing – slowed, as if they were becoming more tentative… no, they were _scared._ Light, quick footsteps belonging to someone scared of crowds… dread suddenly clutched Ren's heart and turned to terror as each step got closer. He tried to run but his legs were as if stone, every bit as alabaster as the small statue in the lobby he had seen moments prior. As that ice that started from his heart reached his spine, the footsteps stopped. The owner was right in front of him. And with slow, deathly movements it looked up at him. And what it said shattered Ren's fear and ice-filled heart, for the very words he had wished to never hear had now come, across land and oppression, to take frightening physical form.

"You broke your promise." Futaba said.


	8. Chapter 8 - Don't Be So Cocky

Chapter 8:

Don't Be So Cocky

June 2nd, Kyoto, Ren's Hometown

Ren took one look at Futaba, turned on his heel and walked away. If he was to describe what he felt in that situation it would be somewhere between some form of happiness and sheer and inescapable dread. If he actually wanted to evade the police then perhaps hanging around the greatest specimen of what it meant to look completely un-Japanese – be it in a crowded public space or private would surely result in him locked away. Again. As Ren exited the building and back into the open streets, he heard Morgana chide him. "Uh, you're running…? That's kind of a dick move." Ren didn't even want to respond and instead simply shrugged. And then the space before him opened up into a deep blue abyss and he felt a heavy object – perhaps a book – strike the back of his skull as he fell forward into the Velvet Room.

Waking up on the blue carpet that normally surrounded Igor's desk – though neither the desk nor its owner was in sight today – he shook his head and slid his mask upwards, as it had slid down his face during his very ungraceful stumble into the vicinity. "You fall like a bitch, Inmate." Lavenza looked down at him with a raised eyebrow and a face that screamed disapproval. She sounded much more like Caroline when she was angry, an emotion she wore very rarely and – as such – demonstrated Joker's complete incompetence when it bubbled forth.

"What did I do?" Joker asked, finally standing straight and dusting off his coattails.

"We – _I_ have told you over and over again about the importance of your bonds and you go and do _that_?"

"Do I look like I want to be thrown back in prison again?"

"Oh, so a simple 'hello' would have all police presence close in on you within minutes? I think _not_ , Inmate."

"If you're going to blame anyone, blame her for coming here. School is in session, hm? Then why has she appeared here, I am led to believe, under Sojiro's own guidance?"

"That is not for me to divine, nor is it for you to complain about. Someone seems awfully happy to scapegoat their own lover and shake their fist at their situation like a brooding old man rather than move to anything about it." Lavenza furrowed her brow and spat those last words, as if she was actually in disgust, reviled by how Ren was behaving.

"But-"

"So you're to continue to make excuses? Dear me, you and I are going to have to have a heart-to-heart. Sit." Lavenza let that command curl off her tongue with relish, savouring how she was about tear into Joker for the first time since she was fused whole again.

Joker uncomfortably sat with his legs crossed on the carpet, like a primary schooler about to be punished by his teacher. His lips furled with discomfort. "Trickster, you have lost your rebellious spirit as of late," Lavenza began, starting to pace from side to side across the room, "and that has become with replaced with apathy. You wallow in the misery of your situation, as if there is naught that can be done to remedy it and instead all you can do is sit indoors, wasting away and moping. 'Why me, why me?' You ask, as you do nothing to help yourself. Self-pity is such a vile, reprehensible emotion. It is as ugly as it is shallow and vain and you seem to gleefully partake in swimming in it, much as a swimmer would any other body of water and it has corrupted you into becoming this self-centred little man. You actively rebuked the person whom you had sworn love to and walked away from them like they were a stranger, something you would not even bother to swat off your shoulder if it landed there. Have you no dignity? No empathy? Anything but this repugnant emotion stored within that sick mind of yours? One of my predecessors knew a fine young man, much like you but with more resolve. So what if you are under surveillance? Is it some sort of cat's cradle you cannot escape? You have escaped death with the help of your allies, but now an ally comes calling you refuse to accept any form of help?" Lavenza took in a deep breath, her face now red. "At the end of the world, the same young man I mentioned prior sits, petrified and dead, sealing doom and ruin away forever. He too was a trickster, selected by my master to save this world from ruin and he paid the ultimate price for it – you, by comparison, are facing a trial – which may be Heraclean, granted – but with the unison of your bonds you can dispatch it with your life, love and bonds intact, unlike our eternal seal. Comparison is by no means the most valid form of criticism, but for the love of everything that is good in this world and every other, _get your act together_!" When Lavenza had finished, Joker blinked twice and stood up.

"I'm gonna-" He pointed behind him to the door back to reality.

"Yeah, I uh-" Lavenza seemed shocked by her sudden outburst.

"Yeah…"

Joker felt the awkwardness run down his body as he exited the Velvet Room and back into reality. He spoke not a word to Morgana, nor did he blink on the trek back to the mall, where he found Futaba looking rather out of it and depressed outside of the hotel. He walked over, still unblinking and – much to her surprise – hugged her, patting her head.

"Wha-?" She hadn't noticed Ren approaching until he had finally wrapped his arms around her. "W-Wait! This isn't fair! I was supposed to be the one sneaking up on and surprising you with a hug!" Ren finally let go.

"Where are you staying? Make it quick."

"Uh- uh…" Futaba pointed to the mall-hotel and Ren got the message rather quickly as he dashed inside and asked the receptionist – Fukawa, according to the name embossed on his gold-leaf name pin – what the room arrangements were.

"Each room comes with a king-sized double bed, TV, bathroom and a nightstand. They are as small as they appear online, before you're customer ten-thousand to ask that but they fit two." He responded in perhaps the most uninterested corporate tone Ren ever heard. Ren darted his head out the glass double doors, questioned if Futaba had booked into her room (she had) and then pulled her by the sleeve into the lobby, much to her chagrin. "L-Let go! Geez, so rough…" He opened another set of wooden doors at the back of the lobby with Futaba's keycard. 8 rooms arranged in a U-shape twisted along the perimeter. He entered his keycard into the electronic lock of Room 03 and, after pulling Futaba in, slammed the door behind him.


	9. Chapter 9 - Reunion

Chapter 9:

Reunion

June 2nd, Kyoto, Ren's Hometown

Ren looked around the hotel room. It was, as the boy manning the desk said, rather small and cramped. A door was directly to Ren's right, which contained a toilet, sink and a shower barely small enough for someone like Futaba to lie in, so Ren wondered how someone of his proportions would even begin to fit in there without uncomfortably compressing themselves like a coil. Only about a metre from that door was a relatively large double bed, the end of which nearly hugged the wall, – which upon seeing Futaba immediately flung herself on face-first, like some sort of small ginger missile. Ren smirked a bit, then inspected the rest of the room, which was primarily composed of a small nightstand and a TV that hung on the wall near the bed. No natural light entered the room – it was almost like an extremely cushy, well-furnished cell.

"Wait, if you two get the bed then where do I…?" Mona poked his head out of the bag on Ren's bag and surveyed his surroudings.

"Aha! That voice!" Futaba shot upwards off the bed and began to try and grab Ren's bag.

"Wah! H-Hey, Joker, don't let her get me!" Morgana moved to the back of the bag and began to squirm. Ren, entirely unamused by the whole debacle, looked onwards with a completely blank expression, his half-open eyes obscured by the light reflecting off of his glasses. After about a minute of Futaba jumping around trying to reach Ren's bag (and failing miserably) she gave up, sighing "You're just no fun you know." Ren let out a slight chuckle and stroked her head, causing her to immeasurably red. "U-Uh-"

"Before you get all mushy, I've got to ask you a few things." Ren sat on the edge of the bed, but Futaba had hardly noticed his movements. She shook her head quickly then joined him.

"S-Sure. What was it you wanted to ask?"

"Why'd you come here?"

"Umm… to see a psychologist?"

"You could _try_ and sound a bit more convincing."

"Y-Yeah… that's what I told Sojiro… and he bought into it, but I'm thinking he might have agreed for… other reasons."

"Why'd he agree to it in the first place?!" Morgana asked, poking his head out of the bag. Upon his reemergence, Futaba made a scramble for the bag and Ren pressed his hand against her face, causing her to flail her arms wildly, unable to see. "Mmf! Mmf!" She yelled until Ren finally relinquished and took his palm off her mouth. "You're smudging my glasses!"

"I was gonna ask the same thing as Mona before you went for him."

"I just wanted to pinch his cheeks! Your hands are really, really big and I can't see anything so you can take them away anytime now! I won't go for Mona, promise!" Ren sighed.

"You're just too cute…" He said, removing his hand in its entirety.

"Eheheh… anyway, why I'm here. Uhh… how do I put this?" A slight hint, nay, a veritable tinge of worry crept into Futaba's mouth and stayed there. "I wanted to see you." She hung her head downwards and winced, as if expecting to be berated.

"Hmm? That's nothing to sound so guilty over."

"Well… I kinda skipped school for a month and pretended to relapse…"

"You did what?!" Morgana hissed.

"Morgana! You need to be a tad more gentle. Let me handle this." Ren advised.

"You did what?!" Ren hissed.

"E-Eek! Critical hit!"

"Futaba, you promised…" Ren's expression softened and he pouted.

"I know… but school's like doing a raid solo when you're not around and everyone else is in the year above… And I just really wanted to see you…"

"That's no reason to- I mean, what you did was- What I'm _trying_ to say is you should go home." Though it pained Ren to say that, he fully meant what he spoke. He believed it was in Futaba's best interests to return to Shujin and, though he was a man of self-indulgence on perhaps a few too many levels, Ren was no heartless fiend and knew he wanted Futaba to have a good life.

"B-But Sojiro's booked the appointments! And he's paid! And I'm starting to understand why he sent me here…" Futaba put her fingers to her temples and swirled them clockwise. "Ah, very clever dad. Very clever indeed…"

"What's she scheming now?" Mona whispered.

"It's best we don't pry."

"Alright! It's settled! Man, I feel like I just unlocked a new quest-line… mweheheh…"  
"That laugh never meant good things back home and I believe I am of the disposition to ask that I assume it does not mean much good here either?"

"Actually, it does! …depending on how you view it. You two are gonna be my party members on this raid!"

"What on _earth_ is she blabbering on about this time? These gaming idioms may as well be spoken in Greek or some other foreign tongue because I cannot for the life of me understand them." Morgana moaned into Ren's ear.

"I think she just realised she's got to do something for Sojiro." Ren replied back in an equally low tone.

"Ah. Well why didn't she just bloody say that to begin with?"

"Good grief, you've spent way less time with her than I thought. You catch onto this stuff around month two."

"Can't blame me. My cheeks are my property and so help me if they are squeezed one more time…"

"You sound rather British today." Ren remarked.

"As do you, my good fellow."

"You two! Were you listening to a word I said?!" Futaba snapped.

"Um… something about a raid?" Ren said.

"Yep! We're gonna see if Inoi has any of my mom's research materials!"  
"Wait, _Inoi_? Sojiro got you booked in with that guy?" Morgana yelled.

"Mm-hmm! Isn't he the greatest?"

"Umm… give us a minute." Ren requested, without bothering to wait for a response. "That's off. He has a waiting list dozens long and she so happens to get into his clinic?"

"Not to mention his ties to Shido… You're right. Everything's off about this, like a crooked painting."

"Perhaps we should give this guy a… housecall. Y'know, a checkup." Ren winked.

"I like the sound of that."

"Guys…" Futaba pouted.

"Ah, sorry, you probably feel like we're not giving you much of a voice, huh?" Ren moved close to Futaba, who made a sound like a choke and whimper when he did so.

"U-Uh, my a-a-appointment is on the s-s-s-s-second. Of July, I mean! Not now, that'd just be stupid, heh…" Futaba looked away, though she also moved closer slightly. "But yeah, I think Sojiro might th-think mom's past research could be kept at that guy's clinic, even if it's only stored in his head."

"You look tired, Futaba." Ren looked at his watch, which displayed 7 p.m. "I think you should be getting to bed."

"You can tell, huh? It's all caused of the fact I stressed out and I was really worried about this meeting, but you took it better than I thought."

"Well, I can't stay mad at you, you dork. I love you, you know?"

"Mmm-hmm." Futaba nodded and smiled, looking up at Ren again. "Just hearing you say that… this was all worth it." Futaba crawled her way over to one side of the bed and pulled the duvet over herself. Ren followed suit, taking off his shoes and nodding at Mona as he slipped under the covers, signalling he was ready to go to Inoi's that night. Mona pushed the light-switch by jumping off the nightstand and falling back onto the slim space of carpet next to the bed.

Ren lay there, staring at the white plaster of the wall and listening to nothing more than the shallow breathing of the three occupants of the room. Eventually one of those breaths began to slow and become more and more relaxed, then began to whistle slightly as it slept. Ren's shoulders relaxed. Surrounded by the swathes of darkness he fumbled around the nightstand for his signature glasses and slid them back on. He whispered to Mona, 'You ready?" and got a soft mewing in response. But before he could get up to depart to Masaru's, a warm pair of arms that had swum the distance across the bed to get closer to him found themselves wrapped around his face and he could feel Futaba's nose dig into the area between his shoulders. In the darkness, it felt like another being holding onto him completely, as he turned around to return the hug and stroked the flowing ginger hair that had so caught his attention the first time he had met he knew there was just something so distinctly _Futaba_ there. As he caressed her thin frame, rubbing his hand up and down her back and buried his nose into the top of her head, breathing in the sweetness of it – like an odd blend of turpentine and cinnamon – and listening to her heavy breaths, he almost found himself closing his eyelids, ready to indulge in the moment. But that moment was fleeting and he uncoupled his hands fro her body and slid out of the bed, satiated, and slung his bag onto his shoulder. He fumbled his hands down the narrow corridor to return back to the outside room and as he patted his pocket to check the keycard was there to re-enter, he felt a twinge of raw, unbridled regret pass through his body, but it left as quickly as it came and – like he – was gone.


	10. Chapter 10 - Housecalls and Stand-offs

Chapter 10

Housecalls and Stand-offs

June 2nd, Shujin Academy, Student Council Room

"So this is part of one big plan, you say?" Yoshida asked.

"Sorta. It depends on whether she catches on or not," Sojiro replied, "But I have full faith she will, so it should be okay."

"That doesn't excuse the fact she's missing school-time." Kawakami glared at Sojiro, who returned the gaze, unshaken.

"It more than does, it's for both her own good and mine. At the end of the day, she's smart enough to go anywhere she wants in life, exams and education or not, and I can say the main reason Futaba attends Shujin is to make sure she has life experience."

"Look, just don't send your own daughter to investigate the dead next time, hm?" Tae suggested.

"Back to the topic at hand everyone. We're gonna need to exchange contact information to keep in touch." Yoshida suggested, which caused more then a few eyebrows to raise.

"You got a death wish or something? Pretty sure doing that'd just make the police catch our asses quicker." Iwai grumbled, pulling the brim of his cap down over his eyes, causing his word to somehow hold more power. The room was silent for a while.

"You're implying they'll catch us to begin with." Makoto rebutted.

"You're implying they won't?" Iwai stretched out an accusatory finger.

"As it stands, the only person's contact information we can't use is Futaba's – she's monitored every Friday, remember? She gets scanned every Friday. Apart from that, if we're careful enough there's no way we'll ever get caught, surely." Haru pulled out her phone, handed it to Yoshida and nodded.

"Yes, caution must be exercised when we're doing this. But if we don't the alternative is for Ren to never return here again and for our monitoring to continue indefinitely."

"Wouldn't the cops just get bored or something…?" Ryuji sulked. "There's no way I'll be monitored forever…"

"Well would you rather be monitored for a few years or months? The decision is yours." Chihaya scolded Ryuji and she, as well as a handful of others, slid their phones down the table to Yoshida, who returned them upon transferring contact information of the others. Eventually, the whole room ceded to these demands – even Iwai, though he begrudgingly handed his in last – and had linked contacts.

"Well that was all I wished to discuss. We can more talk later over messaging. Meeting adjourned!"

June 2nd, 7 p.m., Kyoto, Ren's Hometown

Ren stepped out onto the street. The sun had only just began to set and half of its corona was visible from where he was standing. It turned the lenses of his glasses a sickly shade of orange and he was forced to hold one hand out in front of him to block the beams from blinding him too much. The light it gave off seemed to be dying, as it mustered barely enough energy to shimmer and dance between the branches and leaves, its dirty golden beams just strong enough to send the shadows of man and nature traipsing and pirouetting around the grey tiles of the ground. Though it cast the surrounding area, with all its houses and people, in a rather dapper light, there was something so unnatural about it, something so detached and inhuman about the streaks it sent past every moving object. It set the sky and its clouds, now rough and jagged rather than light and fluffy looking, in the wrong shade of crimson – though what the right shade was may as well have been lost to time, for it seemed it had never truly hung in the sky for months now. Ren felt like he was walking through a morgue rather than a simple small town, an odd feeling – more like a fleeting memory – ignited within him, as if any moment now the moon could hang in the sky a pale green and the world would be bathed in a macabre scene indeed, though he could not understand where that idea formed from. All on the walk to Inoi's clinic, he felt numb and listless, as did Morgana, who seemed too tired to even make a quip or disparaging comment. Every person they passed almost seemed faceless, caught up in the same throes of monotony as themselves, walking on what seemed a set route, like mindless drones. When Ren finally arrived at the clinic around half seven, he felt as if that journey had ripped away a chunk of his humanity.

7:30 p.m., Inoi Psychological Clinic

Masaru adjusted his gloves, feeling them a tad too tight on his fingers. He threw on his trench-coat – beige in tone – in an orderly manner and buttoned it up in an equally organized fashion. He wriggled his fingers to get a feel for the outfit and – satisfied with his appearance – walked out of his examination room and into the lift situated just next to his office. In just a few short months his humble clinic had grown into a large, modern building. The one-man operation was now a fully-staffed operation one-hundred men and women strong. Natural light flooded into every ornately decorated office room and hallway, all with a mix of traditional wooden panelling and flooring, to modern tiling and metalwork covering them, blending seamlessly. Inoi's office itself was filled with books for both he and his patients from hexagonal bookshelves that lined the walls. Everything was done in a mixture of greys and blacks, from the door to the room being a very rustic grey, to the wooden desk and every other object that accented the room – from bookshelves to filing cabinets, window-frames to seats – being black and every other object being grey, including the ceramic plant pots that held the only splashes of colour in the room – long, leafy plants of a dark green shade. He had never actually seen the insides of his co-workers offices, he could not care much for the people inhabiting those rooms, as well as the rooms themselves, unless they had something to report to him.

Pressing the lift button, his eyes – as they did at the end of every shift – turned their gaze to the button that read B1. The floor on he was allowed access to and only his receptionist/best friend Kichirou Saito knew of. That was where his search for the perfect mind continued, the only biohazard to the quiet and idyllic life he desired and had strived for. He wondered how long some of the people he had taken in were kept there for. A year? Perhaps more? And as his thought this, the grey whirlpools that were his eyes intensified and began to spin again. It was a pain to continue to report to those desperate families – especially those who had children whose minds were irreparable. Their desperation, however, kept them in check, even if they were a great disturbance to his peace when they decided to rear their heads again. Inoi quickly pressed the button to the entrance and began to descend. His heart-rate had increased thinking about such trivial disturbances and he muttered to himself, "Calm yourself, Masaru. Once you have reached your goal, peace is guaranteed."

Masaru exited the lift and walked down the hallway to the exit, bathing in the warmth of the sun that touched his bare face. Opening the large double-doors to the reception, which was bathed in that same glorious and beautiful sunlight from the skylight above it, he saw Saito at the large, semi-circular white desk that sat at the very front of his clinic and another figure that caused his heart to jump into his throat. "You have a visitor, sir." Saito said in a grave voice.

"Masaru Inoi." Ren greeted, though there was definite hostility in his voice. Masaru looked into his eyes and saw his own reflected within them. The same malevolent intelligence burned within them, the same exact deathly grey-black colour swirled and danced around in the irises and Masaru knew that when he was excited – in any sense of the word – they would spring to life and spark with glory and electricity. Masaru returned the cold greeting. "Ren Amamiya." The temperature in the room seemed to lower a few degrees and the two's shoulders hunched up in unison, tense.

"You already know my name?"

"Perhaps it is none of my business, but I take great pride in my holistic background checks into my patients. Truth be told, I'm rather proud of the whole process, for it gives me a far greater understanding into the mind of my patients. However," Masaru tilted his head upwards, to a slant, and moved his now stormy eyes looked down at Ren, who was a few inches shorter than he, pointing a gloved finger at the boy, "There is something that altogether confuses me about yourself."

"And what might that be?" Ren's gaze hardened into a sneer, seeing how dismissive Masaru was treating him.

"Why would my new patient choose someone like you?"

"Hmm? Pray tell, what do you mean by that?" Ren questioned, mirroring Masaru's own head-tilt. Saito looked on, utterly confused. He had never known his friend to be so openly antagonistic towards another person before, nor had he ever seen such antagonism be returned with gusto. "What I mean is, why would someone so… unique as Futaba Sakura choose to be involved with the likes of someone like you. Though, again, it is not my business to pry, there is more than enough evidence to suggest what your… shall we call it a side job? was. Yes, why would an innocent girl get involved with the likes of that?"  
"Hmph. Simply put, she owes a lot to me. There is not much more to it than that. I enjoy the time I spend with her and her with me and, though a man of logic like yourself may find such a concept like that alien, it is what people who have known more than corruption in their lives call 'love', Mr. Inoi."

"Ah, corruption you say? May you be referring to my stint with Shido? What I did there was within the law and I did not know of Shido's more dark plans and the pawns he used to achieve such means, one of which, it is spoken on the wind you and your motley crew – whom, alas, I do not know contained, minus you, of course – were rather well acquainted with. I was merely a piece used for mere advisory means and had I understood what was going on to begin with, I am proud of saying I would've cut ties with the man."

"That is like if I were to say that I if I knew the extent of a man like Ted Bundy's crimes I would denounce him. Hardly brave, is it?"  
"True as that may be, the fact still stands I was unaware of his corruption and am not corrupt myself. If you are only here to argue with me and continue to disturb me, I will have to request you leave these premises, Mr. Amamiya."

"I was planning on doing so to begin with, Mr Inoi. Though before I do so, may I ask what you are treating Futaba for?"

"As her father described it, an affliction very similar to one of my patients, Kira. A sudden relapse into being shut-in, listless and depressed – that I can help, and that I shall help. Now, good day to you Mr. Amamiya. I shall be late home thanks to you and cannot verbally express my regret that is happening."

"Why? You don't strike me as a man who has someone to go home to."

"I don't. I only have myself…" Masaru strode out of the room as he spoke, "…and my peace."

Ren waited in silence with Saito until he had strode out of sight.

Walking back outside to the now nearly dark sky, Ren sat on a wall and lay down his bag next to him. "Wow, Joker. That was smooth! When did you ever become that verbose?"  
Ren scratched behind his neck and smirked. "Ah, it was nothing really. But I wasn't gonna let that guy get away with acting all high-and-mighty, so I just decided to rip into him. Anyway…" Ren brought out his phone.

"Ah! So you've made up your mind I see. Let's see if that guy has a Palace." Ren tapped the Metaverse navigator app and watched as it booted up. " **Masaru Inoi.** " He spoke. A great wave of distortion thumped against his skull, throwing him slightly. He saw purple for a brief moment and then the world returned to normal. Ren was overtaken by a sense of inexorable joy. Here, he could begin to reclaim his place in the universe. He could finally run free like a bird, unbound by the chains the police had unjustly put on him. He only needed a location and keyword. "Okay. **Inoi Psychological Clinic.** " He spoke in a more energetic voice. Once again, that same nauseating wave of distortion pounded inside his head.

"Man, I forgot how sickening that was." Morgana grimaced. "Anyway, onto the keyword."

"Hmm… temple."

"No match found." The MetaNav spoke.

"How about mansion?" Morgana suggested. The MetaNav repeated itself.

"…Castle?" Same result.

"What about what we read about those patients? Maybe it's a prison?" No luck.

"Gold mine? Diamond mine?" Still no result.

"I'm thinking it depends on what he sees the patients and building as, maybe?" Morgana said.

"Laboratory?" And so, the names continued and continued, until the two were all out of ideas.

"Ugh, this isn't working. Maybe we should get some sleep and come back tomorrow." Morgana looked up at Ren, who had no choice but to agree.

"Yeah. We can't just brute force this, huh?" Ren put the phone down and sighed at the now dark night sky. He really wanted to go to the Palace, more than Morgana could understand, but he couldn't just sit here all night long trying in vain to get there.

"Come on," Ren said, hopping off the wall. "Let's head back to the **hotel.** " Ren's vision began to warp all of a sudden, as the MetaNav spoke:

"Match found. Beginning navigation."


	11. Chapter 11 - Deep Blue Moon

Chapter 11:

Deep Blue Moon

Time Unknown, June 2nd, Masaru's Palace

It was still night, apparently. That was what Joker noticed first – no odd red skies like in Shido's or Kamoshida's, but by the same token there was bound to be some oddity here and upon glancing at the moon, now a sickly blue and casting that same shade upon the landscape, Joker knew he had found it.

"So Igor was right, hmm?" Mona muttered as he took in his surrounded. They were in their thief outfits – a sign they were unwelcome guests. Joker looked to the horizon and noticed a glint of gold on the horizon, its glint almost blinding, like the sun had risen despite the moon still hanging there. "Mona, I take it you can still turn into a car?" And without another word, they were off towards that speck of luminosity in the distance.

"Another one who would rather seclude themselves from society, like Oracle, hmm? Odd, for a man who appears on TV so often and takes in patients…"  
"Hmm? What are you musing about, Joker?"  
"It doesn't matter much. Look, it's right there now." Joker poked his head over the seat and pointed at the large structure towering impossibly high above the rest of the night sky, obscuring even that blue moon. It stretched, golden and shimmering, to a large flashing sign, fit for Vegas.

"Hotel Inoi…" Joker read. It looked the part of a luxury hotel, with its lustre and magnitude. "So this is what he sees his clinic as? A hotel? That's… markedly different to every other person's mind we've gone spelunking in, huh?"

"Yeah… let's check it out." Mona sped up and slid smoothly into the multi-storey carpark that stretched downwards into the earth just beside the hotel, parking in one of the spaces. Like the hotel, that labyrinth of automobile storage seemed too ginormous and expansive to not reach eternity in its size. "Compensating for something, Mr. Inoi?" Joker muttered under his breath.

"Man, this place is like Mementos… and it's so barren. There's like two cars here and I can barely make out that one over there." Mona was right. The whole place was like a ghost. One car was fifty or so places from them and the other was barely in the shadows. And, as dark places tend to do, unnerved Joker as he stared into them for a while. "Let's not hang around here too long, okay? The main show's playing upstairs." Joker and Mona walked up to the entrance in silence, their footsteps echoing on the concrete and far, far into the shadows, where they were consumed forever.

Joker had to squint through his mask as his eyes adjusted to the opulent majesty of the building before him – they weren't gold, they were just regular walls (no matter how high they towered) but they seemed to gleam with such intensity that it was hard to look at them for even a few seconds. Joker couldn't see that massive sign that crowned the building from here and he felt vertigo from even _looking up_. He put a gloved hand to his head and shook it. When he did, he noticed a masked-clad, deep-black form swirling in front of the door in a bellhop uniform – red, with gold accents around the collar, base of the hat and trimmings of the uniform, even with tasselled pauldrons, like a band member. It wore goggles that let off intimidating beams of light, casted wherever he looked and the same colour as the moon due to the security level there. They had found the Shadows inhabiting the Palace.

"Whose idea was it to make it this huge?" Mona opened his mind to respond but Joker stopped him, "Don't answer that, I know it was him and his cognition but, man, this place is huge. It's like… like.. like…" Joker had his befuddlement interrupted by what sounded like a swish of air behind him and something metallic being thrown. He turned around, ready to meet his assailant, catching whatever surely lacerating weapon that had been thrown at him in his hand. But it was merely a key. And his 'assailant' was just Lavenza, standing at the door to the Velvet Room with an impressed look covering her face. "Nice reflexes, Trickster. Anyway, please, do come in." She stood aside and made a sweeping motion with her hand like a hostess, beckoning Joker into the Room.

"Give me a minute, Mona." Mona nodded in affirmation, but then asked something odd. "Joker, before you go… wherever you're going, did you not notice something off?"

"Apart from the massive gold hotel? Can't say I did."

"Just… look at the people here for a second." Mona pointed to a man who was walking across the street – covered in old gas lamp-posts for some reason and with walls, lined with iron barrings and engravings leading to the exact same house. In fact, the whole street was like that, down to the sand-coloured bricks with their grey edges leading onto the same grey road stretching onwards and onwards for all time, with the same house repeating over and over, separated by walls and hedges. And the people… the people were stood completely still. Motionless. No-one moved even a muscle. "This is how Inoi sees people not in his clientele, I would guess. Unimportant, not even worth the energy to imagine them walking." Mona said.

"Yeah…" Joker continued to gaze at the infinite street until he could bear it no longer. "And that's most likely how he sees his house. The only thing he can recognize and care outside of his own clinic is where he abides… what an odd man…" he looked back at the street as he edged into the Velvet Room, perhaps fearing that if he looked away infinity would swallow him too.

"Oh, and Trickster." Lavenza piped up.

"Hmm?" Joker didn't make eye contact.

"I think the word my sister would choose to describe this place… Tartarus. Yes, that would be it. Now, if you'd be so kind…" And the blue light swallowed the two as the cell door slammed shut.

Joker landed in front of Igor's desk, on two feet this time. "Welcome, welcome. Quite a task you've got ahead, no doubt?" Igor remarked before he had time to think. He also snapped a gloved finger and in a glow of blue flame, a list appeared before him. "Now, if you could please read this." Joker picked up the sheet and read the title aloud. "A list of plot contrivances and conveniences by throwcem-" Igor snapped his fingers again.

"Whoops, wrong sheet." He chuckled. "That's the waver I'm supposed to give you if you complain about…" Once again the old man clicked and another sheet appeared – labelled 'Contract.' Joker grabbed this one and read it as Igor and Lavenza watched eagerly. Joker slammed the paper down on the desk. "You expect me to agree to this crap?!"

"We don't expect you to, we expect you to. We, alas, do not make the rules."

"What's this about being 'reset to level 1?' What does that even mean? Why does it mean I have to pay you if I want to get my Personas back – in fact, why do I have no Personas in the _first place_?!"

"Trickster, please calm down. Again, we do create the rules, but they were given to us – which we accidentally passed to you – on the earlier list."

"Well, lemme see that one again!"

"Ah, well, that one could tear reality asunder so I only tend to bring it out by accident." Igor mumbled.

Joker stifled the urge to reach across the desk and yank the nose off the old-timer's face.

"Well, you still have Arsene…" Lavenza assured him. "Look at it this way. Your old Personas were bound to the cognitive boundaries of the world of Tokyo's Mementos, so when you moved over here, the cognition that allowed those Personas to manifest dissipated. Apart from the truest reflection of yourself – Arsene and, though I doubt you could handle him, Satanael."

"So I have to fight with Arsene?"  
"For the time being. But rest assured, your friends' Personas shall remain unchanged when they enter here but their levels will also be reset."

"So you called me in to tell me… that the universe has gimped me for no good reason?"

"Perhaps not my choice of words, but excellent observations Trickster – the universe has 'gimped' you and it has been for 'no good reason' whatsoever." Igor seemed genuinely happy about this revelation.

"Okay… so I'm gonna fight that bellhop guarding the entrance now. And if I die, know that I blame the both of you." Joker called back as he walked to the exit, steaming with fury.

Perhaps the worst thing you can do to a man with power is to remove said power then kick him while he's down. Ren was stripped of his power upon returning home and now he felt as if he'd been kicked to a bloody pulp. He channeled this anger and malice into steely determination as he grabbed Mona by the scarf and ran headfirst at the Shadow at the door.


	12. The Last Chapter, or at least until P5R

Retirement Notice

Well, I feared the worst ever since I heard of P5R and it seems I was justified in doing so. Look, I don't want to end this story but now there's a new character and new content I wasn't expecting I just kind of have to. I suppose there's nothing else to do now but spend my time writing a new Danganronpa fic and neglecting my old one. So nothing has changed. Joy. Prepare to read this _again_ with minor additions when P5R is released and I've completed it.

-throwcementatmyface (with apologies).


End file.
